Courtney Cushing Kiernat is a staff photographer with the Hill & Lake Press and President of the Kenwood Neighborhood Organization. She lives in Kenwood.
Astronomy has never been my thing, and until recently I didn’t understand why the Minnesota women’s soccer team is called the Aurora. I can usually find only the Big and Little Dippers in the night sky, and talk of the Northern Lights never really excited me. That changed Nov. 11, when my neighbors invited me into a night of connection and wonder on Burnham Bridge.
I live in Kenwood in an area we like to call the Kenilworth Triangle, bordered by the Kenilworth Trail/SWLRT, the west side of Lake of the Isles and the channel connecting Isles to Cedar.
We’re a connected triangle of neighbors, and although our GroupMe thread keeps us updated on random happenings and alerts, I don’t know everyone well. On the first night of the aurora borealis, one neighbor messaged that we should check the sky with our phone cameras — apparently the colors show up better that way.
I was ho-hum about it at first, but as other neighbors chimed in, their enthusiasm sparked my curiosity. I pointed my camera toward the sky and — wow.
From my backyard, I could see purple and greenish streaks across the night. I marveled for a moment before returning to dinner.
Then another neighbor messaged with excitement that he was seeing vibrant reds from Burnham Bridge. I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I’d already changed into my pajamas, but I grabbed my jacket and my phone and headed out, leaving our dogs confused about why I was taking a walk without them.
As I made my way to the bridge, I lifted my phone to the sky — and suddenly understood all the fuss. The night was streaked with shades of red, slowly shifting and moving. I finally understood what everyone had been talking about.
While I was staring upward, a neighbor and friend who has been navigating a difficult health prognosis joined me. We stood in quiet awe before settling onto the cold sidewalk, lying on our backs with our phones pointed toward the sky, exclaiming at the colors, shapes and movement.
At one point the lights formed what looked like an angel with wings and a red dress. The cement was cold, but the moment was magical — serene, otherworldly, powerful, soothing. I’m not sure there’s a perfect word for it. What I do know is that I’ll always cherish feeling so connected to another person as I witnessed my first Northern Lights.
Later, my friend shared in our Triangle GroupMe: “That was the most uplifting experience I’ve had in quite a while. Thanks both to the auroras, and the neighbors.” She captured it perfectly.
The night was uplifting because of the sky, yes, but just as much because of the community who shared in the wonder. The Northern Lights brought us together — adults suddenly giddy like children — amazed by this natural display.
I’m grateful to my neighbors, whose excitement pushed me outdoors and beyond my comfort zone with astronomy and the stars. And I’m grateful to my friend who lay on the cold concrete with me as we both experienced our first Northern Lights.
The moment was richer, more memorable, because of them.
